#maybe i should delete this and get a diary

[oleanderspride]

Hi if you’re a minor ignore this post. SAFE FOR WORK SASHA GO

Hello if you have clicked the readmore I am assuming you’re of age (if you’re not SHOO GET OUTTA HERE). I figured with the uptick in followers I may as well put up a reminder that I have a work-unsafe blog. I keep forgetting it exists every now and then, but if that sort of stuff piques your curiosity, feel free to send me a message or ask off anon (if you’re 18 and older, duh)

[zafiro-anyejo]

very few 'parenting' things frustrate me more than parents who give their screaming kids an ipad, but I think "emotionally neglectful for 20 years and then wondering why their kid isn't thriving/adjusting to adulthood well, so they try to make up for it by being an overbearing helicopter parent" might take the cake.

[beastsovrevelation]

The Ch1 of my First Omen fic has been such a drag... Because it's so intricate, I guess.

[yourqueenb]

I used to love to dance and I lowkey still do, but I feel like I’m somehow even more in my head now than I used to be because I also find it so cringe and it doesn’t make sense. Like? What do you mean I have to do this in front of other people when I go out??? Or when I’m at home and see some good choreo online, thinking about actually starting and stopping the video to learn the moves and putting in the effort to practice them alone is so 🤢😬😖🫣

[thecherrygod]

Laying facedown in a river would fix me

[everywordisanewregret]

Coasting on potential towards a wall at a hundred miles an hour...

I completely feel this line. I don't know when I'll hit it, but I know I will. Maybe I already have but it was close enough to the end of school that I was able to cover it up. I've given myself some breathing room this year, but...

I think I've already hit the wall, but it's flipped the car up and over and it hasn't landed yet. I've felt the first impact but the next one is coming and it's going to be so much worse. The problem is I don't know how to save myself. I will hit the ground.

I was the clever one. Top of the class. The one who was going to be something incredible. The one who wanted to be an astrophysicist. The one who watched documentaries for fun and understood everything without trying. The one who could nail a test without revising. But then suddenly... I wasn't. I started slipping. And it really seemed like nobody noticed. Or nobody cared. I'm not sure which. But how I'd always managed no longer worked. And I couldn't find a new way. I got myself stressed, I started missing deadlines more and more. I stopped caring. I really just gave up and coasted to the end of the year. I told my parents I was revising but really went up to my room and played on my phone and listened to music. I honestly tried, I promise I did. But I just couldn't do anything. I don't know why and it doesn't make sense but I could not make myself do anything apart from show up to lessons. The second the lessons stopped being proper taught lessons, the second the teachers stopped taking any notice of what you did, the second they didn't actually take the homework in, I stopped being able to do any of it. I know it just sounds like I'm a huge lazy piece of shit, and maybe I am, but it honestly felt like there was something in my mind stopping me. I did ok in the exams, but had I not taken some entrance exams to get an unconditional offer for a university place a few months previously (when I'd started feeling like this but before everything was completely impossible), I would not have a place, I don't think. I fell short of all my offers otherwise. And I know this problem is going to continue next year when I actually go to uni. But what I don't get is that nobody seems to believe it. The people around me think I'm intelligent (thanks to autocorrect for suggesting the word "insane"). I don't understand how. It's like they refuse to listen or see the truth. Either they're lying to make me feel better (it does not work, please stop), or they're truly delusional. Except my two friends. They're the only ones who just listen and believe me.

So I think I've hit my wall. But if I've hit it at 18, what am I supposed to do?

Oh yeah, we also found out that I'm probably autistic, so there's that... I mean it explains everything. And honestly I'd be more upset to be told I'm not as I've finally found an explanation for why I am the way I am and if I'm wrong I don't know what to do. If I'm wrong, I'm just broken, just bad at humanity. I've taken the AQ50 and RAADS-R and CAT-Q what feels like a billion times to reassure myself but I still worry. I'm not pursuing a diagnosis because it will take forever and I'm probably not autistic "enough" to access any NHS diagnostic services (I know that's not how it works, you're not less or more autistic, but I don't think I'm having enough problems to be worth the NHS doing anything, there are people who need it way more) and private will be stupidly expensive and I'm scared of a diagnosis having consequences (I'm probably being paranoid but I don't want something that can be used against me unless I really need it).

I'm fine. Most of the time. But then I get myself all worked up like this.

I swear if it wasn't for music I don't think I'd be even close to ok. Especially Fall Out Boy. But a lot of other artists too. When I get really stressed I like to listen to a particular set of songs:

1. "Tell That Mick He's Just Made My List of Things to Do Today" (Fall Out Boy). This one gets the anger and tension out.

2. "Everything is Alright" (Motion City Soundtrack). This one just echoes how I feel a lot of the time. It's a kind of stressful song but it's comforting too and when I'm feeling bad, exactly what I need.

3. "Glowing Eyes" (Twenty One Pilots). I need to rock myself back and forth while listening to this one. The "Make them stop" lines near the end and the bouncy feel are just incredible for relief. I don't really know why, because it also feels like a song that dials up the nerves, but it really helps.

4. "What a Catch, Donnie" (Fall Out Boy). It's such a relaxing song. And the one that is lyrically perfect to calm me down. I love it. I love it so much.

5. "Coast (It's Gonna Get Better)" (Patrick Stump). The other songs break me down to calm me. This one builds me back up again, makes me ready to continue.

I don't know what I'd do without music. I think I would have fallen apart completely last year.

I now can't sit still and I'm not sure if I can human for the rest of the night. Today is going to be one of those nights when I have to sit on the floor or pace for ages because I can't make myself get into bed. And the pillows are new so it feels weird. At least we haven't changed the bedding yet. I hate that, it always gets me really wound up and needing to pace and pace and cry and I know it's unreasonable but it doesn't stop me especially if i didn't know the bedding was going to be changed and the cuddlies are all on the floor. I've got myself worked up. I'm not sure how that happened, I was just trying to say initially that the first verse of Saturday is incredibly relatable...

[oh-no-its-bird]

Look all I'm saying is that if I were going to make a minecraft movie.

Well, first off I'd put down the first person to even reccomend we do it in cgi. Not just because it looks objectively terrible and half of the magic and nostalgia factor of minecraft is in its texture but holy shit budget much??? You are literally looking at a situation where the cheaper option is also objectively the better option. What the fuck are you doing

But I mean, after that.

Second off, all my writers must watch popular smps and minecraft roleplays/let's plays to understand the "magic" of the game. That's how we're studying for this, not the game books or whatever. Those guys are clearly doing smthn right, and as the executive/writer who knows very little about mineraft that I am in this hypothetical scenario, I need to do my best to make money. And that means learning what people like about the game and community.

Maybe even bring on some popular (non controversial please god) smp writers for consulting. They literally make minecraft movies as their fucking job, they are the expert u need to consult

Story wise, you NEED to choose if you wanna play this straight or silly. I'm so sick of movies trying to be all emotional and "ohh this world is so beautiful,, if u could only understand,, woaa" with their epic sound track and dramatic lighting, but then the dialogue being ripped out of a stupid marvel knockoff trying too hard to be witty

Anyways. Give me a generic "kid has a hard life and uses [thing] to escape it but then their parent trashes [thing] to teach them a "lesson"" movie.

The thing is minecraft and this kid is totally in love with letsplays and smps and has a server with their online friends (get a sponsorship from discord for that good good film sponsorship money, have them play while in call)

The mom or dad or maybe both trash the kids computer for some reason (bad grades maybe or one of those shitty "you need to talk to us more!!! That computer is killing ur brain!!! You don't love us as much as you should and it's that damn games fault!!!" But like it's actually just a kid being a normal fucking kid and having normal fucking kid hobbies things and the parents are dicks)

They delete the minecraft world rip

Them boom, kid somehow gets stuck in the game

Switch to NON CGI FILMING IN MINECRAFT. If you really need to add your stupid shitty fucking cgi then at least make it look like an ACTUAL MINECRAFT ANIMATION holy shit

It'll save us so much money too

So main plot is this kid, being trapped in minecraft, actually falling through different minecraft servers.

We can have different cameos from popular smps and youtubers, get some old youtubers and gameplay in here too. Get fucking dantdm and the diamond minecarts og series with the lab thing, it'll make the old fans lose their fucking MINDS.

The youtubers themselves don't even have to show up, just shove the kid into settings that are clear references to smps and letsplays. Have them wander through Aphmau's OG minecraft diaries sets or Sundee's lucky block series

The best part is that as backdrops, you don't even have to fully commit to "you'll only get this/find this interesting if you know these guys" bc if your writing is good enough you can still make people care by just. Introducing it correctly. Don't present it as "Aphmau's old minecraft diaries series world" go "oh wow look st this cool village,, woah I wonder who built this ,," And have them interact with NPCs organically

Meanwhile the parents go into the game after the kid to bring them back and we do this whole world hopping adventure where the parents learn that,, minecraft can be fun? Actually?

They find the kid and the kid is like "nooo I'm having too much fun the real world SUCKS!!!" but then we do that "it's cool to have fun and indulge but you still need to be present in the real world and do real people things too in order to have that fun responsibly" where somehow the kid realizes that moderation is good for u.

Maybe they almost die in game fr fr? Every world they enter has its difficulty upped a little bit till they enter *gasp* a hardcore world (oh no)

So like the kid learns that you can't just lock yourself in the room and wish the world goes away while you play minecraft for 12 hours straight, and the parents learn that minecraft is cool and fun and can be a good outlet and outlets are important for adults and children alike. And also that they totally pulled a dick move and they need to try to understand their kid instead of just demanding the kid understands them

Somewhere along the way, the kid ends up in their friends server and the friends help to pull them out of the game w the parents

We end the movie with the kid making an effort to be more present with the parents, and the parents also making an effort to interact with the kid in ways that they know the kid will enjoy and respond well to— shown a family dinner scene where the kid very eagerly eats their food while talking about school, then they all go to play minecraft together

The end <3

Oh right and if you seriously want Jack Black there so fucking bad then make him either the dad or like. School computer teacher who helps the kid use Minecraft EU to learn science (shows off that some schools use minecraft for education purposes) who also helps the kids friends pull them and the parents out of the game

Overall, lots of themes not just about how the game is cool and can let you do cool shit, but also about how the community is cool, and how it's provided so many kids and adults outlets to express themselves and have fun together

That's how you do a game movie

Anyways yeah, minecraft movie looks shit. Hire me instead next time

[autistic-katara]

ok i might get blocked by a couple ppl for saying this but the Jackson’s Diary fandom is seriously making me wanna become a proshipper out of spite (read the post before blocking me or whatever please)

like idk if u guys have checked the fandom tag on ao3 recently but theres been a bit of drama surrounding the fact that someone posted a smut-fic of Exer (an 18yo) and David (an almost 18yo, who was aged up A FEW MONTHS for the fic) and they were harassed into taking it down and making a fucking apology post ON AO3, THE PROBLEMATIC FANWORKS WEBSITE.

and this fic was tagged 100% correctly like it was very explicitly tagged as smut n stuff yet there were still a bunch of comments being like “uhm what did i just read 🤨” and when i made a comment defending the authors right to yk, not be harassed for making not even rlly problematic content someone who clearly would suffer withdrawal symptoms if they turned twitter off for too long started arguing with me abt how “erm ackhtually we should be allowed to comment harassment under ppls harmless and explicitly tagged fics cause theres no smut in this fandom and it shocked us” and u could just rlly tell they felt they were more righteous than God in their opinions and yeah so cut to tonight when i’m scrolling through the tag and i see a post titled “i’m so sorry” in which the author made a post basically being like “i’m so sorry for posting that ik it was disgusting it has been permanently deleted” which in the comments a few ppl were telling them that what happened sucked n stuff (myself included // judging by their reply they only did this to stop the harassment which yk, completely fair) and i went back to scrolling since i wanted an actual fic not fandom drama but like 2 posts down there was another post titled “please stop” or smthn like that where someone else made a post basically being like “guyssss can we please not write smut of these characters this fandom is so wholesome i dont wanna ruin it 🥺 anyways sorry this isnt a fic this just needed to be said lol” and like dude, my guy, WHAT THE FUCK?!

this is AO3, this is a fanwork archive that as far as i know was created (at least partially) due to the fact that ppl kept getting their “problematic” works taken down from other sites and the creators wanted to yk archive all fanworks. this is NOT a social media site where u can make callout posts abt how what someone else posted disturbed ur pure wholesome chaste scrolling by daring to uploaded something with *gasp* consensual sex between 2 consenting adults?! (or canonically 1 consenting adult and 1 consenting gonna-be-an-adult-in-a-few-months-but-isnt-much-younger-than-the-first-guy but u get the idea)

like guys, ao3 is not twitter. it is not tiktok, it is not tumblr, its not youtube, its not even wattpad. it is not a social media platform, it is a fanwork archive, specifically one that lets u post whatever kinda content u want (yes, even smthn depicting 2 consenting adult/almost adult participates that are in no way related having sex, ik its crazy what they allow online these days).

and look honestly the callout post wouldn’tve annoyed me this much if it was posted on yk an actual social media. like if it was posted on twitter or tiktok or on youtube as a video essay or even on here, like sure if i saw it id be annoyed that this fandom cant handle the tiniest bit of non-puritanicalism and fuck, maybe if it was on here id even drag myself into a pointless days-long argument that causes me suicidal levels of stress but on archive of our fucking own itself?! for the millionth time, IT IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA! u dont make posts like that that u want the rest of the fandom to read or whatever on there because its not that kinda website!

anyways yeah i hope i explained the situation ok, u might be able to check it out urself if u feel like it and yeah idk this whole thing just kinda felt like a wake-up call for me like yes i find incest and pedophilia disgusting OBVIOUSLY and i dont like ppl romanticising it in fiction but idk i’ve seen ppl talk abt toxic antis before and show screenshots of conversations where theyve acted super shitty but idk seeing this all unfold in person and having to argue with these hardcore antis just- i dont wanna be associated with these ppl, if these are what alotta antis r like i dont want anyone to assume i agree with them like at all, whether its other antis, proshippers, or ppl like me who have a super complicated opinion on it. like they harassed a person into taking down their smut and made call-out posts on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN abt how they dont want their wholesome pure fandom corrupted by gross dirty irredeemable sex. and just yeah hope no mutuals i seriously care abt unmoot or even block me over this since ik a few of u r antis but yeah srry for this i just kinda seriously hate this fandom right now :)

also incase anyone is typing out a “kill yourself pedo” reply/rb rn; i turn 15 on Friday, i am 2+ years younger than ur innocent bb minor boy David and his definitely not already a legal adult boyfriend Exer so yk

[itskattkm]

New York New Rules Pt. 4

Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Fluff, maybe Smut, mental health, blood

Summary: Y/N meets the survivors of the last events in Woodsborrow and gets on Ghostface's list. But there is also a darkness in Y/N wich path is she going to choose

Female Y/N x Tara Carpenter

Sorry for bad writing. I'm using a translator and hope you guys can enjoy it. Also, this is going to be a slow burn

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,

I'm 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day

I'm 11 minutes away, so why aren't you here?

I think I missed you callin' on the other line

I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind

Talkin' love but I can't even read the signs

I would sell my soul for a bit more time

You stain all on my body like you're red wine

You're the fuckin' acid to my alkaline

Stupid. Frail. Perplexed. Fearful. Offensive. Sharp and Hurt

„Y/N you rather feel nothing again" I said to myself as I stared at the ceiling of my room. I've probably been lying here for 15 minutes because 11 minutes ran at least three times in a row. In fact, this was one of my favorite songs. But why actually? I know that I have a feeling for the darkness. But why were pain and suffering so self-evident for me? No matter which movie I watched or which series. My darling was always the villain.

There are really people who just hate them because they have the title of villain. But why are they trying not to understand? What about Katherinen Pierce from the Vampire Diaries? This woman suffered and that only because she wanted to be loved and loved? She lost her family. Her child and was hunted for centuries. The man she loved hated her and didn't believe that the love between them was real. Maleficent... rejected and hunted because she was different? Kylo Ren, Star Wars... who let a big wait on his shoulders... not to forget that Luke wanted to kill him. Wanda Maximof... one of my favorites. What was wrong with creating your own world in which you could be happy? Especially if you had lost everything you had left.

Was I the evil one? Did I want to be the bad one? Sometimes I'm not sure but the feeling I felt when Tara looked at me and asked where I was during the attack... I won't forget this so quickly because at that moment I felt like one of the bad guys. But I also felt misunderstood.

Did Tara hate me? How did Tara think about me in general? Since I've been friends with Mindy, I've met her maybe five times. And we didn't talk much to each other. Most of the time our conversations were about the university. I tried to get closer to her. However, I always had the feeling that I was always failing with her. One second I thought I had full self-confidence but then a look into Tara's eyes and my brain shuts down. I had really never felt something like that before. Especially not towards a woman.

I always stayed away from relationships or physical contacts. As soon as it went in this direction, I always pulled back and hid in my bubble. However, there were days when I would have liked to go to the next bar with my dirty thoughts and have been looking for someone for a hot night.

But as I had analyzed myself so far and with the help of Dr. Stone, I knew what my problem was.

The music in my headphones stopped. I looked at my cell phone and saw that my alarm clock that I had set after talking to Sam was now active.

Should I? Shouldn't I?

"Fuck it," I said to myself and made my way to the Blackmoore. I would prove to them all that I am not Ghostface and if they do not meet me then I will also permanently delete these people from my life.

Slowly I played with the ring on my finger. It wasn't special. I didn't like fancy jewelry either. But this ring carried good memories with it and that's why I always wore it with me. When I saw the carpenters and their friends in front of the Blackmoore, I hesitated slightly. Everyone was sitting on the benches of the university and Mindy seemed to be holding a monologue. She was the only one standing in front of them and gestured around like crazy with her hands.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" I asked myself desperately and approached the group. Drier than I thought, I said "hi" when I entered the inner circle and drew all attention to me. There was a free place next to Quinn, so I sat down with her just as she opened her mouth but Tara was faster and said "you came?" I avoided her gaze and looked coolly at Mindy who looked at me with pinched eyes " Y/N Perfect timing..."

Mindy went to explain the rules and that we were in a franchise. I really famous myself to listen to her, but the voice in my head was too loud.

Don't look at Tara. You must never look her in the eyes again. Is she looking at you? Are the others watching you? Do the others know what happened at the police station? Do they know about my state of health? Did they thought I was Ghostface?

"Am I gonna die a virgin?"

Wait a minute? My full attention was back. I looked at Ethan and then at Mindy.

"Weird overshare but that brings us to our current suspects. Ethan! A shy dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky"

So I wasn't the only suspect? I felt a slight feeling of relief.

" Quinn! The sexy sluty roommate"

Quinn looked at Mindy slightly irritated

"Sex positive but thanks?"

"How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" She asked but Sam answers "we put an anonymous ad online"

And Tara replied "and her dad is a cop"

Mindy took a step towards Tara and said in an aggressive tone "and that makes it more likely that she is the killer because having a cop that is a great cover! Do you not remember how this movies work Tara?!"

Now Mindy gave everything. That reminded me too well of the many discussions we had about movies. Then Mindy even suspected her own girlfriend. Like wow… this whole thing was really serious.

"Never Trust the Love interest..." she said coolly and her look was serious. Suddenly there was a tension in the group. That sounded pretty deep... I mean in the first stab film it was also the love interest, among other things.

"Y/N!" Mindy called and smiled at me dirty. I sighed, pinched my eyes briefly and looked away from the group but Mindy came one step closer to me. "my dear friend Y/N... you are also new to our group," she began.

Did she say group? What did she mean by that? Was I part of the group?

"As your best friend, I know that you are going to therapy"

Oh no Mindy, please don't. Not again. Not again. Why me? Why?

"But you never told me why you are going to therapy... would you share the reason with us?" I avoided her eyes and looked nervously at the floor. My heart was beating so fast that I felt the pulse pounding in my ears. Again I played with the ring in my finger "Mindy she doesn't have to tell us anything..." said Tara after a short silent, low-key.

Surprised, I looked at her and our eyes met.

Relief. Relief? RELIEF!!! The first word that went through my head. Did Tara just defend me? Why had she done that? And there she was again. This gentle darkness, and the little white lights, like a light at the end of the tunnel that rested me to tell me here you are safe.

Stop it. I tore my eyes off her and stared at my ring. "okay then tell us at least where you were during the attack..." I looked at Mindy "home... and you are welcome to ask Maria when I entered the building and when I left it last. As I know her, she can even tell you the exact time" Mindy nodded in agreement to me, she knew Maria "okay. Good alibi. Nevertheless, you are suspicious. You don't like to socialize and maintain the good girl, reading books and sitting at home image"

Confused, I looked at Anika, was that something good or bad?

Anika said "that's not fair, if then we are all suspects, including you"

Mindy agreed with her and said to Sam "especially Sam" confused I looked to Sam, I had the feeling of not knowing something and because of the looks of the others I could see that I was right.

After that, I turned on the conversations of the others and tried to look at everyone unobtrusively. I started with Quinn. Quinn's emotions were neutral in order not to be completely present. Anika seemed very calm and attentive. Sam seemed tense. Chad hmmm I don't have to worry about him, he was fully focused on taking notes. I wanted to skip Tara and see Ethan directly, but our eyes met. Had she been watching me? After not even a second, I broke off the look of contact again by looking at my ring. Suddenly Quinn got up, then Anika moved to Mindy. The group disbanded.

"We have to stay together, that's the only way we are safe and can rule out who the killer is," said Mindy, "you could all come to us" said Sam and now also stood up.

Did she mean me with everyone, too? How exactly did they think of all this here now?

Confused, I asked her as if I hadn't even been present at Mindys Monologue "I don't… wait, I don't look through. What's the plan now?"

Chad replied when he got up "we're going to Sam and Tara... stay together... and try not to be killed" he didn't give me more information when he left. Chad, were you serious? Confused, I looked after the others when they were almost gone.

And then I suddenly noticed a person next to me. Before I could turn around, there was a hand on my right forearm. And then I was back in the tunnel... tried to get to the light. "Come to us tonight and we can tell you everything," Tara whispered to me, slowing down my nervous pulse. I could listen to her for hours when she talked to me like that. It was so reassuring. Warm. Pleasant. Right.

Her eyes fell on Sam when she nodded in agreement with Tara "maybe you can bring another pizza right away," she said and slightly raised the corners of her mouth. Tara pressed my arm slightly and looked at me at with bright eyes "by the way thank you for the pizza... after this hangover I needed it".

What was that feeling at once? Joy or nervousness? I had to smile unconsciously and nodded "special wishes?"

Tara snapped her finger and began to list different toppings and looked at Sam to see if she agreed with her "The main thing Jalapeños... registered" I said and stood up. "You have our address?" Sam asked again and I nodded in agreement. She raised the corners of her mouth again before putting her hands in her jacket and set off. Tara followed her.

Before my brain realized what my body was doing, I grabbed Tara's hand and hoped she would turn to me again

"Why did you help me earlier?"

And again this pure placid and sweetness to recognize in her face "what happened in the police station was just fucked up" we both had to laugh about her word choice and Tara's dimpels came to light.

Damn, how could Tara be so beautiful?

Okay, pull yourself together Y/N! How was that again with Tara? Never looking into the eyes again? Now I just wanted to sink into them and that even though I could never keep eye contact. Simp

"And I wouldn't want that either... if I imagined that someone would have done that to Sam..." she looked back briefly to the her. Sam stood a few meters away from us and waited for Tara "and see that as a leap of faith Y/L/N... don't spoil it" dryly I laughed and shook my head "I wouldn't even have a good motive" she squeezed my hand briefly.

Did we hold our hands all the time? How could I miss that? I mean... with this face you forget everything, she gave me a grin with sharp eyes and whispered "but there's always a motive" and then she disappeared.

[starsinkpop]

what do you think if theres blogs that are not only deeply obsessing with finding out ateez members exact fs but they also discussing their potential body parts. I tried telling them how weird and gross it was of them but they tell me I was taking it too far. what the fuck? am sorry but this kpop tarot thing is what is taking ppls obsession with idols fs too far. its bordering on creepy rn and its not just one blog theres like several of them that mainly focus on idols fs.

some blogs be claiming they dont dig too much but then they still think it ok to even discuss idols sexuality or some other aspect of their personal life.

i’m not really on that side of tumblr or social media so i can’t really say much about it. i have clear boundaries. im fine with certain readings about ateez’s fs but i wouldn’t do more readings than i have online right now. we already know more than enough. i keep getting a crazy amount of asks in my inbox of people trying to fit especially san’s fs aspects. i’m deleting all of them because none of those people reading my stuff and also myself will be their fs. some people really need to touch some grass. when i see certain physical traits in a reading i point them out, however i focus on personality only. what’s bothering me is how almost everyone on here in my inbox assumes that the members are straight. making their fs a girl at all times. we don’t know their sexuality and it’s quite frankly none of our business. we don’t know if their straight or part of the lgbtq+ community. this is why i keep my readings gender neutral because we don’t know shit.

now in general i don’t want to spread any negativity because life itself is already a big struggle for most of us. i want my blog to be a place where people could just entertain themselves for a bit and. so i won’t say anything about other readers because i honestly just can’t. like i said, im not on that side of tumblr. i get your point but you have to remember you’re telling me this, im a kpop (well just ateez) tarot reader myself and i’ve done reading about their fs too so 🤷‍♀️🤣 like i said, i have my boundaries with readings, won’t do any sexual readings and i don’t focus on looks. being someone who was crazily sexualized since being a child, i really hate this side of any fandom. there’s too many obsessions going on. you wanna know what happened when i saw the most recent pool pics of the members, especially san and woo? as a gym girly i was like “woah i really need to know their routine so i can shape my body like theirs” i can just admire them. viewers here are a little too delulu and have a hard time sticking to reality and form an own opinion it feels like. and I’m sure some readers feed into that. it’s giving you a ton of likes and if that’s their main purpose for posting i guess i get it. that doesn’t mean i’m okay with that but i know many people need validation like that. whenever there’s people coming up and officially date like twice’s jihyo for example i always feel really warm around my heart. gives me the feeling they can still have a bit of a normal life.

i don’t really have anything else to say and only repeat myself. i don’t know if i’m the right person to talk to about that, i do readings and did fs readings like what you just complaint about, but i have boundaries and know what’s reality. none of us will be with any of them, ever and viewers should stop honestly believing “omg XYs fs is like this and that, i’m just like that it has to be me they have to do more detailed readings so i can make it fit for myself”.

on another note, and this is in no means anything bad or hate whatsoever, i love getting asks from you but those long asks are sometimes a bit much because im not your diary, love 🤣 no hate. but it just felt like a rant and i do really like rants but my inbox is maybe not the best place for that because i don’t want to spam any of my followers page with that you know?

edit: you can still send me longer asks, but please try fitting the stuff you want to say into one ask and not three or more 💖

[hrhmiat]

Princess Diaries 3 Movie....

Can we get a cannon version of The Princess Diaries 3 because I really want to see Mia and Michael as adults falling in love again! Think about it.... They've texted a few times throughout the year, especially on birthdays and holidays. (Michael still sends her dorky Gifs he creates) and they send gifts (like Star Wars or Buffy-related things, ya know, still being the flat-out nerds they are). It isn't weird that they haven't seen each other because Lilly always goes to Genovia to see Mia, never the way around. Michael is super busy because he still crates Pavlov Surgical and could never find time to go to Genovia (especially since he still has feelings for Mia and doesn't want to make things complicated.) So this is how the movie starts..... they run into each other at a charity function in NYC, the first time Mia's been back in years, but this is a major event that she really feels passionate about. Little did she know Michael would also be there. (We don't find out till later that Lilly told Michael that Mia was going to be in town for that event, and instead of waiting for dinner at their house, he had to see her) Then, after the event, he asks if she wants to grab a pie, but Mia says she's really jet lagged, but maybe tomorrow? We see Mia go back to her room and just start swooning all over again and telling herself they are just friends and he's not into her like that. She's talking to herself and Joe (b/c sadly we cannot add Lars this late in the game in the movies and I do like Joe) Tells the princess words of wisdom and it calms her.

UNTIL Michael texts Mia, "It was great seeing you tonight. Looking forward to catching up with you tomorrow." Mia doesn't know how to respond and deletes several texts until She says, "It was lovely running into you! I am also looking forward to tomorrow! Night!" She thinks how lame she is and wants to call Lilly, but IT'S HER BROTHER! So she settles down and gets some sleep..... NOT The next day, she's sleep-deprived and meets her grandmother for brunch. Clarisse sees the bags under Mia's eyes and how fidgety she's being and asks her what is going on. Mia explains, and Clarisse warns Mia about dating too soon after breaking it off with (what his face) and that she is royal and should have the highest standards for the men she dates. (but then mentions she has been keeping tabs on Pavlov Surgical and how marvelous and innovative his company is.) After brunch, Lilly calls Mia to see if she is free to hang out in the afternoon, and unfortunately, Mia has to go to something, but a rain check? So Lilly asks how about the evening..... then Mia fesses up and tells Lilly she has dinner plans with her brother. Lilly acts all interested and asks her what they are going to do. Mia tries to be SUPER casual about it. And Lilly drops the conversation. We see Mia enter the pizza place where Michael has already secured them a seat, and he waves over to her. Joe greets Michael, and they shake hands and exchange words, then go across the room to sit down. Michael goes to order pizza and comes back. It a not a date where it's never ending, and they end up walking in Central Park at night until Michael walks her to her hotel, and they get so close to kissing, but they don't. Not sure how to end the movie, but this is just the start of where I thought it would be a good meet cute again.

[finnseth]

the body is mostly blood

well. i became severely sad after brisbane, so i made everyone's favorite whump ghoul get sad as well. aether's dead, copia might be soon, and little dewdrop isn't coping very well.

also no. i dont want to talk about the fact that this is 10k words. just be grateful it is.

read on ao3, or continue below

-

Dew should be in the mood for celebrations. Everyone else seems content to be, Aurora excitedly searching up the hottest nightclubs in Brisbane, flicking through hair colors for her glamour while Phantom peers over her shoulder to offer his advice. Cirrus is leaning back into Cumulus' chest, breaths whistling softly through her angelically parted lips as she dozes. She'll join the new kids, and she'll swear she didn't have a nap on the bus. No one will say anything against it, lest she invite them to her room for apologies back at the Abbey. Mountain has taken up residence around Rain's lithe body, nose buried in his hair as Rain's tail wraps around Mountain's wrist. They sway with the movement of the bus, and to some little tune they're sharing with Rain's headphones. Swiss is deep in a low conversation with Copia, probably talking about some vintage whiskey he'd like to share with his Papa and see where the night takes them.

So that just leaves Dew. Back of the bus alone, noise cancelling headphones on, listening to the loudest, angriest music he could find. He'd gone through the effort to put it on his phone after it managed to disappear from the Internet— he might as well listen to the fucking thing. He has his phone open to his texts, cursor blinking at him as he indulges in his worst habit.

A conversation stares up at him, a few months old now, long discontinued. A conversation with Aether.

Aeth 🖤

Haha you know I got you babe

Dewbug 💧

you are the wind beneath my wings 🕊️

It's the last thing he ever sent to Aether, or rather the last thing Aether ever read. There's a wall of messages from over the past months, none of them sent, and certainly none of them received. Telling Aether how much he's tried to hate Phantom, as if it would bring him back. How the little shit managed to worm his way into some small portion of the hole Aether left. The sheer amount that Sunny would have clicked with Aurora, two little fireballs of energy and life. How his day had gone, how tour was going, little things that made Dew remember him. And every now and again, breathless, sobbing messages, barely legible because Dew couldn't get his hands to stop shaking.

He types out a message a few times and deletes it, like this isn't just some masochistic diary. Eventually he just starts typing and sending before he can even think, and then thinks about throwing his phone out the bus window.

Tour finished tonight. I know how much you loved this country. How much you loved this world. I wish you could have seen this crowd, shit. It just gets bigger every time.

I'm sorry I never stopped missing you.

I'm sorry about the hole left in my chest. The new kids don't deserve it. They're so young and full of life.

You would have been so proud of Phantom. He handles that fucking Fantomen better than either of us ever did, sorry to say.

Copia called himself frail, the fucker. Watched that sea of phones go up, like it's a game to them. Maybe it is. Maybe they don't realize.

Well I mean he stuck a fucking ice cube down his pants, I can't blame them for wanting to keep that forever. 

Satanas, I hope I keep him forever.

Dew presses his forehead against the window of the bus, rattling his skull in a way that's perversely satisfying as the bus rounds a corner. When they arrive at their hotel, a sleepy little collection of cabins he's heard a couple locals — and Mountain — call a caravan park, he makes his way to his room without even so much as a goodnight to everyone else. He has no idea if anyone else notices, but he hears and promptly ignores Copia's soft voice calling after him. He just can't tonight, just can't face pity and look into those sad eyes and pretend like he isn't scared out of his mind.

He's similarly distant at the airport, hood drawn up and sunglasses shielding his eyes. Everyone else has a pounding headache from the celebrations, Dew just can't handle the idea of being witnessed. He sits apart from the group when they get to their gate, ready for that long haul back to Stockholm and wishing he could let some of his glamour slip. He feels itchy and cooped up, and maybe if he could soothe the spade of his tail like a kit does, he'd feel a little better.

But as kind as Copia is about their forms, that's a step too far. It's not like Dew is going to do anything to face the wrath of the Ministry, certainly not now, so he just contents himself with knowing he's got a few good months of letting his wings free coming up soon. He's sat beside Copia, to his infinite dismay and his eternal delight. Their hands stay tangled under the blanket the whole flight, as few words are exchanged between them. Neither feel like talking much, and Copia spends about half the trip snoring away anyways. 

The Abbey welcomes them like a parent awaiting the empty nest to be filled again for the holidays, warm and insistent but also a little bittersweet. Everyone knows it is not meant to last. As Copia gives his first sermon back to a rapt group of Siblings, worn lines gracing the curves of his face, Dew has to leave Black Mass halfway through for the first time in his infernal life. There's something in the way the light hits Copia's face that makes him seem as frail as he toyed with being on stage, tired and beaten down. Hopefully his Unholy Father can find some way to forgive him the transgression. He presses a kiss to the icon of Asmodeus on his rosary and makes a silent promise to the Saint of Hell that he won't whine next time he's asked to deal with the hundreds of candles in the chapel.

As he walks, his legs carry him on well worn paths, ones he remembers walking with dewier skin and a younger heart. The ever so slightly disastrous state of the garden calls to him, whatever little mote of water that remains between his ribs aches to help Mountain fix it the way he used to, even though the earth ghoul is still kneeling piously in the pews. The autumnal shade of the oaks lining the gothic courtyard remind him of years past, chasing after the love and affection of other Papas, and losing those just as easily as his beauty earned them. Dew ends up back in the dormitories, looking up with a start when he realizes he's at the place that hasn't been his room in years. It's the one he shared with… Satanas, he can't remember their name anymore. Back when he was still craving Secondo's attention, the little siren that he was.

Dew shakes off the memories and heads back to his own room, but not before passing Copia's door. It's obviously unoccupied, but there's a little pull from deep in Dew's gut that begs him to change that. He makes to continue towards his chambers, but he gets about three steps before doubling back and trying the doorknob tremulously. It gives— Copia had a terrible habit of leaving doors unlocked behind him. 

Copia’s room is a monument to his simple tastes, to the luxury of small things. It’s nowhere near as lavishly appointed as Terzo’s room was; there’s no sumptuous silks and fine rare dyes here, no gilt kissing the corners of everything. And it’s certainly not the somber elegance that Secondo surrounded himself in, high pile velvet that swallowed all light and sound until the room felt almost claustrophobic. No, it was about as breezy and light as the old Abbey could manage, windows perpetually open to let in the smell of fresh cut grass, or the breeze off the lake, or the sick-sweet rot of leaves as Dew notices now. The window is a panoply of cool colored diamonds of stained glass, casting a mottled glow onto the floor and on his arms that reminds Dew of hot summer days in the lake, of flirting with Mist as they ducked through the cool waters together and let their bodies twine in ecstasy. 

Dew crawls into the butter soft sheets, the delicate cream color feeling like it’s going to be sullied by his presence. He can’t call to mind the country of origin, though it sounded fancy when Copia decided to treat himself after a long tour with one too many scratchy sheets. Dew didn’t pay much attention, his thoughts were occupied otherwise as Copia ordered the sheets with one hand idly petting away between his horns. The little ghoul crawls into the divot formed by Copia’s body and buries his sensitive nose into the place where his head rests nightly. It’s an explosion of love that blasts the blackened char of his heart into a thriving, burning core again. It’s vanilla and jasmine, the first kiss of spring after a winter of using the powers forced on him to keep the Abbey’s residents warm, that very first time a timid Cardinal looked his way and said that he didn’t know if Dew would want the compliment, but that he was looking very nice today. (He hadn't been, he had smoldering sticks in his hair from where he'd dived into a bush to capture one of the Cardinal's rats.)

He delicately tangles his fingers up in the sheets, careful not to pierce or snag them with his claws, and curls up tight. The sensations in the room are all he can focus on; the ambient chatter from Siblings and ghouls alike that sings through the unhallowed halls, the decaying smell of the book glue holding together Copia's beloved and very old copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, the taste of his own bile on his tongue as tears rise unbidden to his lashes. Dew lets a few of the tears fall to the pillow, sullying the fine fabric with his own weakness. He barely notices the acid clang of the chapel bells ringing to signal the end of Black Mass, though when the door clicks open he shoots up guiltily, ears pinned back.

"Papa, I didn't, I-" His voice cracks from disuse, and Dew realizes then how little he's been around his pack since they got back. He slinks off to bed before anyone retires, has shrugged off invitations to movie nights and even brushed off Mountain when he was invited to spend some time in the greenhouse. He'd just needed his space, right?

"No, no, tesoro mio, you know you're always welcome. But I noticed you slip out of Mass, and you’re never absent from Mass.” Copia comes and sits on the bed, depressing it slightly. He puts a hand between them, bridging the gap in a way that leaves Dew the power to make the choice to reach out. Dew watches guiltily as his gloved fingers stroke idly along the grain of the fabric. His whole body screams at him to reach out, to make the connection, but he can’t make his arms move from where they’re wrapped around his wan frame. Trembling fingers soothe along the scars on his ribs where his gills used to be, and Copia moves his hand to Dew’s knee. “What prompted you to leave, Dewdrop?”

“I haven’t.. I haven’t been okay for a while, Papa.” Dew admits, voice low like a confession. Forgive him, Unholy Father, he knows full well what he’s done. “I can’t…” His voice clicks as more tears spill over his cheeks. He brings his knuckles up to brush the tears away, but they're interrupted by the soft kiss of leather as Copia catches the tears on his own fingers.

"Take your time, mio amato." Copia scoots a little further onto the bed, and in a flurry of hot limbs, Dew launches into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as he catches Dew, sinking a hand into the tangle of his hair. Dew paws at Copia's shirt for a lifeline, sobs shuddering his whole body.

"I can't lose you. I can't lose anyone else." Dew whispers hoarsely all in one breath, until he takes in another gasping breath and the tears fall heavier. He didn't think there was so much water left in his body. Copia tuts gently and strokes down each knob of Dew's spine, a soothe he discovered after Dew had his first panic attack under Copia's care. It had happened after that very first show where he was on lead guitar, with a body that felt alien and shouldering more responsibility than he could manage. The show had gone off without a hitch, but Copia had found Dew a sobbing mess on the floor of the dressing room. He'd stayed there longer than the venue really wanted, but it didn't matter. Copia was determined to stay until his ghoul was alright.

"You aren't going to lose me." Copia murmurs back, rubbing the thin space between Dew's shaking wings. The little fire ghoul whimpers piteously, claws sinking into Copia's shirt before he realizes with a gasp what he's done. "No, no, you're alright. It's just a shirt." He soothes, voice low and sonorous.

"Aeth said-" Dew can't finish the sentence, but Copia figures out rather quickly what his ghoul is implying. He knows well of the bond between the two, and how much it had pained Dew to have it severed. When the Ministry came to collect its assets, to recoup the loss of a very taxing new quintessence ghoul to summon, Aether had gone with a grace the barbaric act hardly deserved. But he'd not been given the choice to explain to his mates, or to even say goodbye. It was sudden, jarring, and Copia had been there to support Dew while he delivered the worst news to his pack that anyone could fathom.

"I know. I know it must sound like an empty promise. But who could take me away from you?" Copia says gently, pushing his hand under the hem of Dew's shirt to stroke the furred base of Dew's tail. "I would fight the forces of Heaven and Hell to keep you in my arms." 

"Who could take you away? The same people who took Aether, Sunshine, your brothers, Alpha, Omega, Ifrit. Should I go on?" Dew pulls back to look at Copia incredulously, tear tracks burned into his cheeks. He looks over Copia's face, takes in the life worn into his features, the freckles that Dew himself has kissed over after a night of passion. "You said it yourself, Papa, you said that you're frail. Your time is up soon. And you can tell me that some of it is toying with your flock but-" Dew cuts himself off with the memory of their arms wrapped around the others waist on stage, as Dew did his best to not look utterly besotted with his Papa. I love you, little man. Saints, the words ring in his head even now. How it thrilled his chest to be publicly declared worthy of the unholiest love he knows, how bittersweet the finality of it all felt on his tongue. "How am I supposed to know that when I wake up, you'll still be here?"

"I think you'll just have to trust me." Copia sighs, fingers still rubbing the little patch of fur that graces the transition from human to beast, from glamour to ghoul. "I know it is an impossible task."

"No. Trusting you is easy. It's the world I can't rely on." Dew rubs the tears away, a low purr kicking up at the gentle pets to his trembling body. His heart rate is starting to slow, that infernal core cooling off to a glowing coal. The panic takes a backseat to the fact that Copia is here, in his arms. For right now, whatever comes next is immaterial. 

"Then let me be your world, and rely on me." Copia breathes, pulling Dew into an achingly tender kiss. Dew can still smell the incense from Mass clinging to his hair, with that undercut of jasmine and salted tangerine from his cologne. That all too familiar scent is safety to Dew, it's love, it's home, it's hope. No matter the bouquet of pheromones that his pack has for him, it's never quite this combination. He would know Copia by this alone, by the brush of uncalloused fingers on his cheek, by the sound of rushing blood through his veins rather than ichor. 

The kiss finally lets Dew relax, wings drooping heavily as all the tension leaches from his body like his namesake evaporating in the heat of a summer morning. He's cried himself into emotional exhaustion, and now he just wants to be touched. He's tired of shutting himself off, tired of being on the outside of the pack, tired of being scared and wounded and crawling off to die alone like a cat. Copia pulls him closer, a low whine building in his throat that makes Dew crave him deeper than he ever thought possible.

"I love you." Dew pants when they both pull back for air, foreheads pressed together as Dew feels leather-clad hands exploring the familiar pathways of his body. His horns press softly against Copia, that eternal reminder of how different they are at their cores. "I've never- you.. I don't think I'll ever love like this again." Copia hums softly and kisses the corner of Dew's mouth, drawing him back in like the tide. 

"Maybe not. Maybe you will." Copia leans back slightly, bringing a hand up to his teeth to pull the glove off. Perhaps he doesn't notice how it makes all the hair on Dew's body stand on end, perhaps he notices and doesn't care, because he does it to the other one, clasping the gloves in one hand and gently tossing them to the desk where they land limply. His fingers are impossibly warm and soft as they come back to grace Dew's imperfect form, well manicured nails scraping ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is loving you here and now."

"Then love me. Love me fully." Dew begs, a whine creeping into his plea. But Copia isn't deterred by the vulnerability, isn't scared off by Dew's infernal ache. He pushes into the soft curve of Dew's jaw, leaves painted kisses there as he slowly pulls the shirt off that Dew stole from Mountain some years back. It hangs off him like a tunic, but no one could deny him whatever he wanted, considering he looked so loved in the oversized garment.

Perhaps it isn't wise to seek to heal this hurt with sins of the flesh; Dew recognizes this. And there is more yet to do to banish this pain from his mind, his soul, and perhaps truly it will never be gone. There is always going to be an indelible mark that the ones who are no longer here make on his pitch-heart, carve their name in hellish runes on the very surface of his obsidian bones. And in time, he will learn to live with this. In time he will wear the names of the departed with pride, and love, and welcome new names and new loves to become part of him. For right now, though, he is as shattered porcelain, begging to be put together anew. Changed by the process, but once again whole.

Dew sinks his claws into Copia's shirt again as his Papa's lips travel lower, kissing over his prominent collarbones, and up to the faded scars from his gills. Dew had tried to open them up once, a year or so after his transition. A delusion grabbed hold of his shattered psyche, convinced him that the beautiful creature he used to be lay still underneath the surface, needing to molt to become himself again. It was Aether who found him, fingers stained black with the effort of his pain, shaking and sobbing and woozy from blood loss. It was Aether who used his fledgling powers, tripping on the unsteady legs of a newborn deer to knit flesh back together again. And it was Aether who convinced him that he was beautiful any and every way he was, and that the cruelty of the powers that be was in no way his fault. 

The Ministry moved in mysterious ways, sometimes bold and striking declarations from Sister Imperator, and sometimes people unbeknownst to even Copia would show up and demand things of he who should be the highest power. It always unsettled Dew, made him feel as if Copia was little more than a dancing monkey, a figurehead puppet who they could shove in front of the yearning masses, who could take the fall when culture came to bite back. It was Copia, of course, who takes the blame for introducing the devil back into the 'good, Christian world'. Copia, of course, who takes the blame for corrupting youths by daring to imply that they should be loved as they are. Copia, of course, who is at fault for wanting his flock to feel and touch and love and fuck as much as their desires told them to, for what could be more human?

"Should I just take this thing off, eh?" Copia says with a smile, eyes flicking down to the long claw marks in the dog-collared button down. It only strikes Dew then that he probably came back to his room to get changed after Mass, only to find a very sad and vulnerable little ghoul in his bed. 

"Oh, I.. I didn't mean to-" Dew shrinks away from all the points of contact with Copia, only to have it chased right back as Copia slides his arms around Dew.

"It's just a shirt. Dime a dozen, dolcezza." Copia squeezes Dew gently, fingers finding scars with featherlight touches. The ones he's given himself, the ones inflicted on him, all fall away to nothing under Copia's careful touch. It's as if he's made anew. "Help me get out of it?" He doesn't need help— it's become tatters— but he wants Dew to unfurl, wants him to feel this. Dew plucks at the buttons gingerly, one by one, until he can push the shirt to the floor.

Dew takes a moment to regard the one he loves, the incrementally graying chest hair, his softness, the beautiful fallibility of his mortal flesh. He'd only started to notice Copia's temples going gray this most recent tour, and it was certainly fuel for the fire that was his anxiety. But in the objective sense, it granted him a handsome gravitas Dew couldn't deny. From the way his flock would cheer when he promised to fuck the crowd, it would seem that he wasn't alone in that opinion. Shaking claws reach to stroke along Copia's sensitive sides, and Dew watches with rapt attention as his perfect stomach twitches with barely contained laughter.

"You know I'm ticklish there, don't you?" Copia asks with a smirk, though both of them know that he is. "And yet the touch persists, how cruel of you." Dew finds himself smiling ever so slightly as he shifts and pushes Copia down to the plush bed, deft fingers attacking soft curves. Peals of laughter ring around the room from the both of them as they fall back into each other, into soft lingering kisses that feel first-time timid. With that same gingerness, Dew reaches below the belt for the first time for an exploratory pet. The response he gets is beautifully favorable, a stuttered gasp from Copia, pupils blown. "And if I said I was ticklish there, would you stay your hand?" 

"Saints, I love you when you get romantic like this." Dew says, Copia's fingers coming to rest along Dew's forearm. They regard each other for a long moment, Dew's hair curtaining down in the way that he's always been called beautiful for. He'd thought about shearing his hair after his transition, no longer yearning to feel his hair trail behind him while he swims, no longer feeling like anyone's preziosa sirenella. It was a joint effort from Aether and Copia that had kept it long, Aether meditatively brushing and plaiting the hair while Copia held him close and called him beautiful again, praised the fire in his eyes and the blaze in his bones.

"What you call romantic I simply call honest." One of Copia's hands traces a little trail up the inside of Dew's arm, along his chest to cup his cheek. He pushes up with the other hand, pulling Dew in to kiss him with a little more urgency, a little more breathlessly. He moans wantonly into the kiss, parting his lips to let Copia get even closer, to taste him more insistently. They eventually make their way to a reverse of before, Dew laid back on the pillows looking for all the world like a fallen angel. Sure, the horns and batlike wings don't fit the picture, but the amber eyes looking up through pale lashes seem for all the world like a creature spurned from grace.

His beauty turns to ecstacy when Copia litters his chest with little kisses and love bites, none too hard. Though he'd be hard pressed to bite harder than Swiss, especially considering his rather dull teeth in comparison. But right now Dew can't imagine anything feeling better than this, especially when soft lips brush over his piercings. His back arches into the contact, tail squirming and disturbing the duvet. He lets out a long, low, whined out Papa, which gets him a little hum against his heaving chest. Copia's clever fingers take an exploration down to where Dew's shaft has grown behind his loose joggers.

"Please?" Dew whines, hips jumping and earning him a low, husky laugh from Copia. 

"You don't have to beg, tizzone." Copia says gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Dew's pants. His eyebrows raise expectantly, and Dew scrambles to lift his hips enough to get the joggers off. Dew kicks the pants to the ground and paws hungrily at Copia's chest, pulling him into more kisses as the room floods with his cinnamon desire. He's already dripping slick all over the slim juncture of his thighs, squirming underneath the watchful gaze of his Papa. He is flayed open, raw and beating heart ripe for the taking by any predator who dared. And yet, he is not torn in two, and the soft curve of his chest is simply kissed over, leaving smudges of black paint. When Copia leaves his ministrations be, he looks more like a raccoon than normal, all the paint on his lips smudged off completely.

"You look like those, Saints, what does Mountie call them, the bloody trash pandas?" Dew says through a snorting laugh, appending his best true blue impression of Mountain. Copia rolls his eyes fondly and pushes back up onto his haunches, looking down at the ghoul spread out like a feast before him.

"If you're going to be mean I can leave." Copia earns playfully, getting his stern voice out that usually gets reserved for when they've destroyed a hotel room with some sexcapade that makes the bill fall on his shoulders. Notable examples include the scorched bed from when Dew was pinned down and made to cum over and over and over until his little body couldn't take the pressure and literally exploded into flames; the broken bed frame from when Rain begged Mountain for more more more harder please mountie please and the gentle giant had unleashed his powers to rend the particle board to dust as he finished deep in the hot clutch of Rain's body. The most recent incident was the room that looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off when Phantom had lost control of his powers and unleashed a supernova in a cheap hotel, but each of them was brushed under the rug by an understanding but mildly disappointed Copia.

"No! No, I'm sorry, you look nice." Dew reaches out shakily, gripping Copia's shoulders with a fervent whimper. Copia's shoulders slump slightly, and he rubs his thumb along the bird-light joint of Dew's wrist.

"I could never leave you, but I do think I should probably get my shoes off before we continue, eh?" He presses a kiss to the fluttering pulse of Dew's wrist and pulls back a couple steps off the bed to slip his dress shoes off, pulling his belt out of the loops. He hears Dew's throat click with a heavy swallow, and for a moment they share in the hunger for something harder, something that leaves Dew flushed and crying. They're no stranger to that kind of play; there's a very good reason why Copia has a plethora of different leather gloves, well worn by use and, well, too much cleaning. But the moment passes, fleeting as can be, when Copia bends down to unclip the garters from his socks. "Should I leave the pants to you?" He asks with a soft smile, just as Dew's crawling his way down the bed to pluck teasingly at Copia's zipper. 

"Maybe. I let you undress me." Dew grins up at Copia wolfishly, quick fingers dancing along pressed slacks until before Copia knows, his fly is undone and Dew is pawing at him. 

"Should I just fuck you like this?" He laughs, following the line of Dew's thin fingers to gently grip himself. "Boxers and all?"

"You can do it however you like, Papa, as long as you don't let me go." Dew breathes, flame-hot over the thin fabric separating his flushed mouth from sensitive flesh. Copia awkwardly shuffles everything down to a messy pile on the floor, the only real sign someone lives in the room that Dew's noticed since he crawled into bed. His cock springs up, a tempting little bead of pre welling up at the head. Dew grits his teeth in an effort to resist, but as if pulled by an invisible tether, he leans in to press an almost chaste kiss to the head.

"Now that's very dangerous of you, tizzone." Copia breathes as Dew returns to lounging on the pillows, waiting for Copia to chase him up. Nimble fingers dip down to splay open his slit, shimmering in the sun that still filters in the windows. Copia looses a punched groan and moves with a swiftness few people see from him, clambering across the bed to smother his ghoul in kisses once more.

"Need you in me, you know I'm ready for it." Dew juts his chin up proudly, grabbing Copia's hand and shoving it unceremoniously down to his slit. His wide eyes beg him to pet through the velvety folds, and then up to let the smooth, slick length of his shaft throb against his hand. Copia relents, of course he relents to the bid for touch, probing a couple thick fingers into Dew's entrance. He scissors his fingers gently, watching Dew's expression carefully. The fire ghoul's face screws up, but through the years they've been sleeping together, Copia has learned well the difference between pain and pleasure. Dew is firmly on the side of pleasure, at least until something shifts in his face, lip twitching.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Copia pulls his fingers out, and Dew scrubs at his face, taking a gulping breath and trying to calm his hummingbird heartbeat. He shakes his head, mouth trying to find words.

"It- you… for a second, you felt like…" Dew closes his eyes, trying to find some anchor in the sea of his feelings. "Aeth. I know it's stupid to think about—"

"No, no, Dew, it's not stupid. When do emotions run higher than this, more than when two become one?" Copia brings his clean hand up to cup Dew's cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No. Saints, no, I- I need this. Just need you." Dew throws his arms around the broadness of Copia's back, fingers splaying over the freckled expanse of skin. He clings tight, chest heaving until Copia presses a warm palm to his sternum. They don't say anything, they just breathe in tandem until Copia's even breathing is the rhythm they both follow. Dew nods, and Copia knows what he's ready for without words. They've really never needed words, able to read each other with the smallest twitch of an eye or the quirk of a lip. So it's no surprise to Copia that when he latches his lips to Dew's hot pulse and sinks his fingers back into the warmth of Dew's slit that the little ghoul howls in pleasure, hips jumping erratically.

Copia suckles a dark bite into the pale gray of his Dewdrop, purple blooming to the surface prettily as he opens Dew up. He doesn't need Copia's fingers scissoring him open, not by a long shot, but he'd be remiss if he didn't get his hands dirty in the pursuit of pleasuring Dew. Copia curls his fingers just so, and Dew shouts in ecstacy, shaft throbbing dully as more slick leaks out over his soft stomach.

"Please, please Papa, I don't want to wait anymore." He lays the piety on thick, which seems a little bold for a ghoul who snuck out of Mass. Copia forgives the indulgence, though, and lines himself up to tease the head of his cock along slick folds. "No, no no no nonono, don't tease, please." Dew sobs out. He seems so shattered already, Copia can't help but sink into him, mouth tucked into the angles of his throat to feel his pleasured noises.

"See, I can be kind." Copia mumbles, mouth a little occupied with absolutely ruining Dew with kisses and bruises. Dew yelps as Copia sinks home, hips kissing for a brief second before he pulls almost all the way out.

"Not that kind, apparently." Dew grumbles, jerking up to try and fuck himself on the unmoving cock. Copia lets him try it for a little bit, a faint amused smile playing on his lips. It doesn't last long until the heat beckons, that velvet inferno, and Copia sinks in again with a low groan. Dew's little wings flex against the sheets, claws barely resisting sinking into Copia to pull him impossibly close. He doesn't need the prodding, though, because he picks up a neat little pace. It's not as hard or fervent as it will grow to be, but for now it's just what both of them need. They move together with the gentle push and pull of the ocean, and it reminds Dew of endless quiet moments on the bus, smothering moans in the plush flesh of his lover as they rock with the movement of the bus.

It threatens to ruin Dew's mood, but he forces his mind to think of the ones he's shared that experience with who are still here. Chief among them is of course the man between his legs now, but he feels a different little thrill thinking about Swiss swallowing Dew's noises by clamping a big hand over his mouth, or Cumulus promising to treat him so well if he can stay quiet all on his own. That brings him back from the brink of absolute collapse, to say nothing of the reality of Copia dragging him into a slow, messy kiss. 

Dew slides a hand down in between the both of them to tug at his shaft, but his hand is batted away by Copia. He whimpers at the loss, but Copia picks up the slack immediately. "Just let me take care of you." He murmurs by way of explanation, gently squeezing the slick length of Dew's shaft. His barbs leak all over Copia's fingers, making the glide of skin on skin all but frictionless. It's not the only trait he retained from his previous element, but it was probably the least upsetting. He never needed much foreplay, though he enjoyed it thoroughly, and it definitely made him the pack's favorite choice for a quickie. His hands almost instinctively slide up above his head, ready to be pinned by a large hand. It was one of Mountain's favorite moves, to make him feel impossibly small, but Copia doesn't make the move.

So instead, Dew opts to keep his hands locked tight around the bars of the headboard, thin fingers twining around carved mahogany. Copia groans at the sight when he flicks up his mismatched eyes, focusing back on ruining Dew's chest with love bites. If he thinks too hard about the unfailing obedience that Dew offers him, this endeavor ends far too soon. Then again, compared to the infernal endurance of his ghouls, he's a minute man by comparison, so frankly he's just got to try his best.

"I love you." Dew blurts out randomly, voice thick with pleasure and barely held back tears. Copia's hips stutter for a moment before he looks up to see that the tears are of ecstacy, as far as he can tell. He blinks once, and the fat tears fall from his lashes and race down the hollow of his throat to leave wet spots on the pillow. In response to the love, Copia adjusts himself and pulls Dew's slim legs around his waist, locking them together eternally.

"I love you, Dewdrop, Father Below, do I love you." His hand leaves Dew's shaft for just a millisecond to make sure Dew's legs are locked tight. It returns in due time, bringing with it increased fervor and a lump in his throat that Copia wasn't expecting. He's never been stoic, Saints no, but not nearly as much of a crier as his sweet Dewdrop. There's something in the air today, then that has him choked up. So be it. If his body needs that release, he won't deny himself.

"Don't leave. Please, please don't leave me alone, please stay, Copia please, I can't live without you, I can't lose you." The steady stream of tears turns to wet sobs, and Dew's hands fly from the headboard to cling desperately to Copia and pull him impossibly closer. Their bodies are all but one as their hips meet over and over. Something in the desperate cries makes the fragile dam inside Copia break, and when he screws up his face when Dew flutters, he feels the hot slide of tears down his own cheeks.

"I could never, tizzone. I can't bear to lose another person. I can't hurt you." His voice shakes, and he'd love to pretend that it's because of all the sensations swallowing him, the sweet honey heat of his Dew. But it's a disservice, he thinks, to pretend himself incapable of tears. What then, of the grief he'd experienced, of all the loss of family and love alike? Here, in the sanctuary of his room, he has no obligation to be His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus IV, a stoic figurehead to lead and protect his flock. He can just be, ever so simply, Copia. A man, with vulnerabilities just like everyone else. He swallows heavily, and Dew leans up to kiss his tears away. They're both just sort of crying on each other, wet cheeks pressed together. 

They press even closer to each other, chest to chest as Copia's hips speed up. His hand squeezes the forming knot at the base of Dew's shaft, interrupting the tears with a yelp of pleasure.

"Oh, oh fuck, harder, please, can you- harder?" Dew asks, voice trembling. He never asks this politely, and combined with the throb of his shaft, Copia realizes he's not the only minute man here. The pace slows down in service of more brutal thrusts, getting punched little groans from the both of them as the bed creaks with protest. His hand makes choppy little strokes along Dew's shaft, lack of rhythm unbecoming of a practiced musician. Dew doesn't seem to mind, head tossing back and forth and making his silken hair into a mussed tangle despite the inelegance of Copia's thrusts. Right about when Copia expects, his thighs and hips start to burn in protest. It's for the best that he thinks about bringing things to a crescendo.

It's definitely not a premature end; Dew's slit is pulsing heavily around Copia which always signals that he's about to burst. The little hiccups each time he fucks a little deeper into Dew's hot body are a sure sign that it's time to try his dirtiest trick. Well, 'dirty' implies that he's on equal sexual footing with the very emissaries of Hell's lust, so it's more that he's a very clever lover. He swipes both his hands under Dew's ass, trusting his knees for all of two seconds to bear the weight of him while he adjusts to fuck up into the spot that makes Dew howl. And howl he does, one hand clawing deeply at Copia's shoulder without breaking skin. The other rends the pillow under his head to downy shreds, fine duck feathers exploding into the room and clinging to Dew's sweaty shoulders.

"Aaah, yes, yes, Copia please, please I'm right there, touch me touch me please please, Unholy Father, I need to cum!" Dew sobs wetly, bringing a feathered hand up to scrub the tears away so he can beg with the full power of his alluring amber eyes. He doesn't need to beg; he never needed to ask. But it seems ingrained in him to ask permission, so Copia gives him a little grunt of affirmation. That's apparently the key to get the levee to burst, because Dew spills all over his stomach and chest with a wail. Iridescent cum coats his piercings, glittering in the dappled light of the window. The fluttering of Dew's silken walls around him means Copia is barely moments behind, spilling into Dew and screwing up his face. 

The ecstacy brings the tears back in full force, a sick combination of pain and pleasure. His chest constricts as if squeezed from within, and he finally looses a proper sob. Copia wipes at his eye, coming back with a smeared blob of paint staining his fingers, and it's quite belatedly he realizes that he probably looks absolutely haggard. He can't be fucked to care, honestly, especially as he pulls out and lowers Dew back down to the bed, watching as his chest heaves. Dew's cum barely starts to dry, hardly gets the chance before Copia leans down to clean him up with that silvered tongue. He laps broadly, swiping up slick and cum in equal measure as Dew sobs quietly into the back of his hand. Copia keeps his kisses featherlight, his tongue as restrained as he dares. If he catches a couple of his own tears in his ministrations, so be it.

"Saints, I could worship you forever. You are so dear, so unholy to me." Copia breathes against Dew's damp skin, ears tuned to the stuttered hiccup at the reversal. Dew had caught the attention of many a man (and woman) of the cloth, and yet none of them had found him worthy of worship. Only Copia truly viewed him as not only equal, but superior. Dew did his fair share of devotion in the bedroom, but he was used to being on his knees in more ways than one.

"Don't deserve it." Dew whimpers, though his hands tell a different story when they sink into Copia's hair. "I don't- I'm not beautiful anymore, not like I used to be. Too much blood." His hands twitch on Copia's scalp, and for a brief moment all Copia can think of is the moment Dew stumbled on him in a puddle of ichor, of Aether's— No. No. Not now. Not when he's dragging down lower, sensitive cock brushing against silky sheets when he settles in between Dew's legs. Copia's spend leaks wetly from Dew, little pulses of his orgasmic afterglow pushing a new wave of slick and cum out of him. He watches for a couple seconds, pleasure-dazed until he remembers his purpose, hands coming up to stroke gently at the thin plane of Dew's thighs. Gentle fingertips stroke at the fine hair on his legs, feeling the muscles twitch uncertainly as Dew awaits whatever comes next.

What comes next is a supernova of overstimulation, Copia's tongue licking broadly between dusky folds. He's so pretty and dark down here, like a rare flower with midnight petals. 

"Fuck, hurts. Hurts good." Dew bleats, taking a fistful of Copia's hair in his hand as he's cleaned out with gentle licks. "Please don't stop. Might go again." Copia groans into slick flesh, the idea that he could bring Dew to even the littlest orgasm down here stirring heat right back up in his gut. So he sets himself to the task, bringing a single firm finger up to prod tenderly. It's under the guise of making sure Dew is cleaned up properly, but it's really to pet at his soft walls and feel him flutter with each lick. Before he knows it, Dew is clamping his thighs tight and squealing, body forcing every last drop out of him and onto Copia's tongue. Dew doesn't have to push him away when he's had too much, because Copia knows him intimately, knows just when to draw his finger out in the aftershocks.

Dew's face is blotchy, all different shades of plum and tyrian purple, and the patchwork only continues down his neck and chest. His face is still wet with tears, though they've dried down to a velvet sheen on his soft cheek. Copia kisses the inside of his knee, murmuring softly that he'll be right back, he's just going to grab something to clean them both off. Dew assumes he's going for the ensuite, and he paws at Copia with a yelp, but he only moves to the other bedside table to flip open a vintage cigar box. Inside is not cigars, but a pastel little packet of baby wipes, all hidden away to keep the impeccable aesthetic of his room in order. Dew watches curiously before he lets out a watery laugh that turns a little teary, making more feathers from the destroyed pillow stick to him.

"Oh, shit, the- Papa, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Copia waves a hand and beckons Dew off the ruined pillow. He goes uncertainly, relaxing into the touch as Copia wipes him down, leaving him smelling faintly of honey and almond.

"It's a pillow, I can get another. I'll forgive you if you tell me what's so funny." His mouth settles into a lazy smile as he discards the wipe to grab another and slip it down between Dew's legs. The little ghoul hisses at the cold between his warm legs, but he does as his Papa asks.

"Just the," he waves his hand at the cigar box, "I don't know. Such a silly little thing hidden away in a mature shell. It's very you. And I love that. Practical and not too serious and-" Dew shudders as his sensitive shaft retreats, brushing against the cool wipe. "Hells, that's cold."

"I would be loathe to invest in a wipe warmer." Copia explains mildly, with the not so subtle implication Dew was being a bit of a baby about the cold. "Rain loves it, says he gets too hot and sticky." Dew opens his mouth to protest, but clacks it shut with a snap of his jaws, brow furrowing.

"Well. I'm not much like him anymore, am I?" He says quietly, eyes sparking like when he loses control of his element. Copia watches him carefully, fingers stopped in their work to ensure he doesn't obliterate the bed. The fire dies down completely, quenched by the tears that bubble up and fall with a scary speed. "Not much of anything, really." He hiccups, and it's the comedown Copia was really expecting. He's never escaped a teary romp in the sheets without lengthy aftercare, and likely some of the world's worst pillow talk by normal standards. 

"No, no. You're everything. I knew you were beautiful from the moment I saw you." Copia soothes, tossing the soiled wipes into the wastebin that's there for just that purpose. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if it's worth the effort to clean up his paint. But he eventually perishes the thought, considering that Dew is grasping up at him with pitiful paws. So he looks like a rat left out in the rain, so what? He sits back down on the bed, shunting Dew into his lap and gently picking every stray feather off of his damp skin. Every fourth feather or so, he brushes Dew's cheeks of the tears that incessantly fall, granting him reprieve best he can. "It's alright. I knew this was coming for a long time, dolcezza." 

"What- what do you mean?" Dew looks up blearily from behind his tears, eyes now dulled to the color of stale coals. Copia tuts gently, flexing slightly so that his foot doesn't go fully numb with the pressure of the little head on his thigh.

"You were withdrawn since Brisbane. Barely spoke for weeks, all you did was hold my hand on the plane." His voice is gentle, all the patience of a teacher, a leader, a pastor. All the things he's been to Dew and more, his anchor in the storm. "I've seen this mood on you before, Dewdrop. I know how you get when the.." He waves his hand, looking for the words, "melancholy takes a hold of you." He's probably looking for depression, but he's got a poet's soul. Sue him. "Mountain came to me a little while ago, asked if you had been more forthcoming with me about how you were doing. Your pack is worried about you, myself included." 

"I wish he wouldn't." Dew grumbles, wiping at his face. He's mostly free of feathers, so Copia's moved to gently detangling his hair and picking out the down he finds stuck there. "I just.. I wish they'd leave me alone."

"You know they won't. When I saw you leave Mass I.. to be honest I almost stopped the whole affair to chase you." He'd been in the middle of Desecration, holding His Infernal Body aloft when he saw Dew excuse himself and slip out along the shadowed corridors, votive candles burning a little brighter as he passed. It'd formed a lump in his throat that hadn't gone away till he'd been able to shed his robes, leaving them in a pile for the poor sacristy ghouls to deal with. "I was glad to find you here, instead of.." He trails off with a shaky breath, the implication hanging as a sword of Damocles above them.

Dew closes his eyes tight, forcing tears down his mottled cheeks. He balls his fists, and it's like he's trying to squeeze all the anxiety and pain and doubt out of his little body. He relaxes with a slump, laying heavier on Copia's lap. Alabaster horns prick at Copia's thigh, and he sinks his fingers into Dew's very scalp to massage around the base of his horns. Sometimes that touch is arousing, but right now it's just soothing, though it does little to stop the tears.

"What's keeping you away from us, little flame?" Copia murmurs, trailing his fingers down to press his middle fingers into the little spot at the hinge of Dew's jaw on either side. So much tension is carried here, not to mention the spot where his pheromones burn the strongest, and when Copia massages the whole room floods with warm tobacco and teak. 

"I.." Dew breathes in and out once, chest trembling, "I'm terrified that when you go, I won't feel it. That I won't know." The confession seems to shatter something in him, and he crumples up his face like the words struck him. "And I thought maybe if I could pull away it wouldn't hurt so bad, wouldn't kill me when everyone dies again and again and again. But maybe not knowing is worse." One of Copia's hands presses on Dew's sternum, helping to regulate his breathing. The other travels back up to scratch softly at his scalp. "I still message Aether." Dew continues, "I have for months. I don't know what I'm doing without him, it's like.. I don't know. I've lost packmates before, so many of them, but I never thought I'd lose him."

"I know. Saints, do I know." Copia strokes his thumb along Dew's feverish skin, scooping a hand underneath his head to deposit him gently on the bed. Dew whimpers, hands reaching up for Copia piteously. "I'm not going far, dolce." He gently makes his way over to the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling a bundle of tied together letters out of the very back. They're all different sizes, some as thin as a single sheet, some clearly stuffed full with multiple pages, and as Copia brings the stack back, Dew spots the name on every single one of them in elegant script. Aether. "It's a little more old fashioned, but.. I write to him. Not on a schedule, just.. when I find myself thinking of him. And I tuck them away, and I," He sighs, a shaky little noise that has Dew finally sitting up and cocking his head, eyes searching Copia's face. "When I can go long enough without remembering that.. that damnable pool of ichor, I'll burn them for him. In the summoning room, and I'll hope that he gets to read them."

Dew takes the stack of letters gently, noting a faint herbal scent when his hands warm the papers. They're all on fine paper, thick and rich and sealed with wax bearing the symbol of the church, carefully embellished in gold by a gentle hand. He brings one of the letters to his nose, but he can't for the life of him identify the herb. Mountain probably could, but he doesn't really spend enough time in the garden. Anymore.

"Rosemary. For remembrance, and because he always used to love that lamb roast Mountain would cook up for Ostara, which Mount always claimed was traditional hell cuisine and I'm just now doubting the veracity of that," Copia laughs fondly, a small, sad little noise. "There's a sprig in every letter for him. I learned that magic a very very long time ago, at that boy's school, Saint Amduscias'." Copia takes the letters back and tucks them into the desk again, fingers lingering briefly on the lacquered wood.

"How often do you think of it?" Dew asks, eyes searching the expanse of Copia's back, noting each freckle for the hundredth time. He knows asking the question is like poking at a sore tooth for the sick satisfaction of it, but there is a perverse pleasure that leaves the ache a little duller each time he talks about it.

"Those letters? They're all from this last leg of tour. And I have more I haven't unpacked." Copia turns, always so beautifully unashamed in his nakedness. It was a shame that humans got so touchy about their bodies, considering how wonderful and unique they all are. Dew's always been grateful that Copia never seemed to be in a rush to cover up after sex if he didn't strictly have to. "How can I not think of it? I can't.. I don't know that I'll ever forget fully. I knew Ministry staff were to be there that day, but I never thought.. well, I knew the rumors. I'd heard things, here and there but they were my first replacements." The words drips off his tongue as if it were acid, vile and burning.

"I can't stop thinking about feeling it before I saw it." Dew comes over and swings his legs off the bed, leaning back and looking up at the one who's charmed his heart over and over again, and will probably do so till both of them are in the ground. "I'd seen some important looking people around but, I mean. You know how I am with authority, I just ignored it."

Copia pushes off the desk and settles his body in between Dew's slim knees, until Dew is craning his neck to make eye contact. "What did it feel like? You never told me." Dew's heart skips a beat so loudly it feels like it reverberates around the room.

"Like a star collapsing in on itself. Like a heart attack, from what I've been told it feels like." He swallows thickly around the lump of tears in his throat. He feels like a wrung out rag, like blood squeezed from the stone. There's probably more tears in his body, but Hell Below, he just wishes they'd stay there. "Like being stabbed and then the knife slides out slowly, like the person doing the stabbing enjoys it. Like losing a limb." Dew gets quiet, and he rests a hand over his heart, scars from former fins shimmering down his arm. Copia bends down and presses his forehead against Dew's, a Ghoulish kiss Dew first taught him by accident. The fire ghoul had just done it, and Copia played along, until Dew realized the poor Cardinal had no idea what he'd been doing.

"I'll do anything I can to make sure you never feel that again." He murmurs, and Dew sighs, a dismissive tone to the noise.

"You know you can't promise that." Dew says shakily, and Copia bumps his nose against Dew's a soft little movement that makes Dew's chest constrict.

"No, not entirely. But I mean it. I'd do what I could." They fall into a silence then, breathing in each other's air, enjoying each other's space. The arrhythmic rasp of a starling sings through the window, a discordant soundtrack with the backing beat of their hearts as accompaniment. Dew pulls back eventually, nosing at Copia's jaw to get his attention.

"Do you want to go see him?" Aether has a sort of grave, a shrine really. They weren't allowed to keep his body; the Ministry had taken it as some sort of grotesque currency for Phantom's summoning, but they had other things. The mask Terzo had given him, and the first one Copia gave. A broken little shard of horn from early on, when he literally butted heads with Omega and snapped it off. His beloved bracelet, which Ivy had gifted him, shaped by their own hand from scrap guitar strings. The first Fantomen he'd gotten, all those years ago. Phantom was given a new one, apparently not too dear a price from the Ministry for their newest summon. Gifts from fans, piles and piles of them, carefully kept safe in a plexiglass case. He'd kept almost everything he'd been given; if he could fit it into a nook or cranny of a gear box or a bunk, he would. Dew had found some little trinket tucked into his guitar case when he opened it up for the first time to prep for tour, and it's been on his bedside table ever since. It's all lovingly ensconced in an explosion of flowers that Mountain maintains like a soul-bound duty, heliotrope and lavender and aster and stargazer lilies, each one beautiful and perfect.

"I think that would be nice. I haven't been since we got back. The lilies should be blooming, and I think Mountain will forgive me if I take one for myself." Copia muses, wondering if he can find some little bud vase that he can get Rain and Mountain to jointly enchant to have a perpetual flower on his desk.

"Oh, you know those things make me sick whenever you handle them too much." Dew grumbles, but it's playful, light, and the beat of his tail on the bed says as much.

"Ah, so I shouldn't wear my gloves to pick one? Wouldn't want those dreadful lilies near your, eh, most sensitive parts." Copia gets a wicked little smile, and Dew pushes him away with a groan, flopping back to the bed and watching as a couple of feathers float up from it.

"You're so lucky I love you."

"I am."

[syntethizinglove]

DEVLOG #11 - Updated UI

Almost a week has passed since the latest announcement and I managed to get some work done.

For now the main menu and textbox will look the same, as I think they still look good even with the updated UI, but I'll consider redoing them in the future for the complete game. 

The rest has changed considerably! The menus now have much more personality and are quite colorful, acting like a sort of personal diary/notepad for Hannah. Everything works as intended (I'm only missing the "confirm" screen and the language selection button) but I had to put the credits screen on hold until I reach a point when I know exactly who to credit.

I'd like to change a few things, maybe work more on the music, add sfx and have only custom made backgrounds. I also plan to polish the writing a bit, mainly in the first part of the game which people found pretty boring, but hopefully it's just a matter of deleting a few sentences, so that I can still use the translations from last year. I feel bad for all the people who helped me and still can't see their work put to use because I felt too overwhelmed to continue the project. Certainly I wasn't in a good place mentally but I have to admit that Tyrano's unwillingness to collaborate wasn't helpful. Yes, the only reason this game even exist is because of that engine and I'll always be grateful for that, but its strenght of being so easy for beginners was also its weakness. 

I'm still a newbie in game development in general and with Ren'Py, but after my first Ren'Py project "Sprint down memory lane", I already learned so much and I'm able to design and code UIs that I never even thought were possible to do! As I probably already wrote in the past, the main protagonists of this game have been my OCs for years so I want to write this game's story by myself at all costs, which means it probably won't be the best so let me apologize in advance! I'm just stubborn, I want to be able to do everything and asking for help feels like cheating, although it totally isn't. I'd like to collaborate with a writer in the future to bring my stories to life, I know I'll definitely enjoy the process more if I won't have to worry about people disliking my writing ^^"

Anyway, I digress! This is all I can show you for now and I won't hide that I'm so proud of myself, comparing these screenshots to the current demo! Next I'll add all the text in the game (which will be so, so much easier this time around T.T) and then polish it as best as I can. In the meantime, I should think of a plot for this year's Yuri game jam...

See you soon!!

[crmsnmth]

A Letter Never To be Sent (Part 2)

(cont.) It wasn't so much the breakup that killed me, it was the next two months where you spent time fucking with my head as you were fucking him. It almost seemed like you were rubbing my face in it. Of course, that could just have been because I was alone, and the only person who I liked (loved) was a fucking demon to my eyes, and left me with long long nights of crying into a pillow, and then, once I found a good hookup, I forgot your name for a while. Unless I came down early. As soon as sobriety hit, it was your fucking eyes that I'd see. I'd smell watermelon jolly ranchers in a crowded room, and search the faces for yours, for your smile. Thing is, it's never there and why would it be? I'm hundreds of miles away from you, and it'll will stay that way. There is no ball. There is no court. I expect nothing from you, but I fantasize about you all the time. Not in a sexual nature, but I will say whenever I wanted to finish quickly, all I had to think about was you. The way you tasted, the way your breasts heaved in the dull light of the street lamp outside your window. I fantasize about talking to you more than anything, talking to you and getting the real deal. The mystical mythical closure. I've been trying to so hard to shut the door, but someones mangled foot keeps getting in the way. For the longest time, I hoped it was yours, but in the end, it's just me, with a threshold for pain that I didn't know. I'll always wonder if you deleted me away, or if the girl who controlled everything deleted you. I'll never know, because I won't allow myself to talk to you again...Unless you talk to me first. And I think that's fair. It's the only way to ever do this. I just want a few answers. Why did you play with me after you left? You kept giving me small things to be hopeful about. You knew you weren't going to come back to me, so why didn't you just leave my corpse alone? I get we always joked about necrophilia, but I never knew how sharp your nails were until the cut my Y incision in my chest. I want you to feel some form of guilt, and maybe I'm in the wrong on that. At the same time I want nothing but the absolute perfect life. I'm sorry about your divorce. I didn't hear that from anyone. I found out via the internet. A night of wormhole searching for the people I've lost within my life. I miss the group we once had. The people I desperately wanted to be friends with. So much so, that I took fall after fall and was already falling into the socially anxious person I am today. I never learned to keep my mouth shut, and you left. You didn't just leave. You fucking abandoned me in the city. The city I moved to for you. The housemates I had were friends of yours. I had to fucking look at your face in every step I took. You were my only memories for Milwaukee. And you were gone. Off to fuck the same guy from before me. The guy you told me was gross and weird and had problems. Or maybe you were just talking about me in secret and cryptic diary entries. I had to jimmy the lock with a flat screwdriver so you could write how much of a loser I was. How much of a child, a liar, a fucking joke I was. You don't have to deny it. The one thing I really was for is to have you in my life again, even if it was just a friend. I just wanted you to want me in your life, but it's pretty obvious my hopes are stupid, and I should gave them up and become the bitter old man I'm going to die has.

Fuck this. I need to go to bed.

Love (Tragically)

Peanut

crmsnmth

[katsukikitten]

This is just a diary entry because I think I just need to get some things out. Y'all don't really gotta read it's dead ass just thoughts

I wanna reupload that Christmas fic I deleted in less than 24 hours of it being up but I don't want to hate it. It's not going to do well because it's Akaza/Hakuji and it shouldn't be about numbers and it isn't. It's a really big comfort piece for me, I wrote it for me but part of me keeps wanting to share it because maybe someone else needs that comfort too? I dunno we'll see.

I honestly want to delete everything, I want to log out and never get on again. And not just Tumblr but discord too. I want to truly isolate myself and never speak to anyone again. I know it isn't fair to myself to do that but it's so hard to fight that shit especially at 2am when I'm home alone. When I've got my password typed in and hoping I'll accidentally hit the DELETE when swiping the app closed cause "see fate said you should stop". I want to quit writing, I want to stop speaking. And my brain is like drown your phone that's an option toss it out the window going 90. Shit like that I dunno the apathy is just so great today, I don't enjoy anything most days and it's so hard to mask and be normal this time of year and apparently more often now. I just can't fathom having to still do this for decades to come. I just can't.

I'll just keep enduring because that's all I know how to do. I know that I cannot stop for a second. I'll just be the stone that the sea wears down until I'm nothing more than grains lost in the waves. I will endure I will endure even though God fucking knows I do not want to.

[hashtagloveloses]

hi hashtagloveloses,

I'm a new user and saw your post about reblogs. Is there anything else I should pay attention to? Could you tell me if there is a post or guide or something I can consult on how tumblr works? I'm still getting really lost here and have trouble finding anything.

there’s actually an official staff blog with a bunch of good tips called @tips everybody should know about! but off the top of my head also:

1) make sure you have a profile photo. you don’t need a cover photo you can even just turn that off in your blog settings. this is to make sure people don’t think you’re a bot

2) have a different username here than you have other places and don’t share personal information of any kind here (huge mistake i made….). despite what some people say you do not need to share anything about ur sexuality, pronouns, diagnoses, opinions, etc. frankly if i could advise my younger self, i’d say just don’t make original posts or comments at all (if u wanna make commentary in reblog tags maybe?). use a diary or a journal instead of original posts about yourself or your opinions or comments on others’ posts. even if you delete your blog or change your username, the reblogs of things you say live on here forever.

4) reblog instead of like, and tag posts with what they’re about when you post and reblog (this is something i don’t do as much as i should bc im often on mobile and don’t feel like it and only do it for original posts). at least make sure you’re tagging for common content warnings and spoilers. don’t censor words in posts or tags if you’re trying to tag, bc that breaks people’s mute/blocklists. DO censor words/tags if you’re talking about something you don’t want to clog the tag for or attract attention to or something.

5) if you personally want to keep track of original posts, asks, and queued posts, create tags you use for each of those and on mobile manually tag with them every time you do one of those posts, and on desktop you can have an extension do it. in your blog settings you can make like your original post tag one of your “featured tags” if you want easy access, or other people to be able to see, which just means when they hit the search bar on your blog it’s suggested.

6) make sure you go to your dashboard settings and turn OFF “best things first”. i keep on the other algorithmic stuff like showing stuff based on likes as well, and i flip between the various feeds, but most of what you should be doing is following blogs that post or reblog what you like, following the TAGS of things you like, and those will appear chronologically in your regular dash “following” feed.

7) freely block, unfollow, and filter/mute people and topics. do not feel like you have any obligation to anyone. curate your experience on here.

8) turn off submissions on your blog, and turn off anon asks or even asks all together if you don’t want them. you are not obligated to answer every ask or even have an open ask box. you should also take a look at your settings for private messages and replies to set them to what you’re comfortable with.

9) how i use notifications is different than a lot of ppl bc i get a LOT of them but explore how the Activity and notifications page works to your favor, but turn off push notifs and as much as you can. followers, likes, etc, do not matter that much here if you’re not trying to build a following for art or something and you shouldn’t pay attention to it other than just for fun.

10) learn what T*RF, SW*RF, and white supremacist dogwhistles are and how to spot them bc they can still be prevalent on here and you may not realize. a lot of seemingly normal posts about feminism on here can be crypto t*rf shit so you need to learn how to spot it. (those kinds of posts spread to a lot of platforms and people don’t realize….)

11) do not get into discourse on here. of any kind. even if you’re right. some idiot will drain the life out of you arguing with you and people get weird. you’re not gonna convince people online of anything in a discourse fight most of the time and you will only come out of it drained or harassed yourself (frankly this is good advice for anywhere and sometimes even i slip up). in general even on here where engagement is not encouraged as much, every platform has engagement bait and discourse either purposely seeded to piss you off, or if it’s not on purpose it’s still pushed by algorithms.

12) for things like news, etc, this is general online advice but make sure you’re practicing basic media literacy to check how real a headline or a video or something is. what’s the source? how old is it? did they provide sources? etc

13) DO NOT REPOST ART. EITHER FROM HERE OR FROM OTHER WEBSITES. unless the artist says you can repost it (and you need to do so with credit, and look and see if they need to give permission). do not REBLOG reposted art either. you may find it in tags sometimes. do not encourage that behavior.

14) to that same end, do not post AI bullshit here. chatGPT, character AI, voiceover deepfakes, AI videos, etc. don’t do or support those in general but don’t post that shit here

15) in general, and this is something i try to tell people on EVERY platform, remember that what you see people discussing online is often a small minority of what most people think or feel. it may FEEL like everyone is talking about a certain thing, or fighting about a certain thing, but it does not represent the whole. there’s so many discourses where people are like “why do x always say y” and i’m like well they don’t. the very online segment of x often say y bc it gets engagement or bc they are very loud. (this isn’t the case for everything but it happens often for very stupid topics). this isn’t to dismiss important conversations had online by a minority of people that aren’t being discussed wider enough either - bc that also does happen. but that is often for things that are more important than like, the same movie sex scene discourse i see on twitter every 2 weeks.

16) don’t feel any obligation to your “followers”. you are not an influencer you are just here having fun, and your followers follow for the things you reblog, not for you. be FREE.

17) on desktop browser, get the XKit Rewritten extension and go wild with the settings. its a really nice tool and has a lot of good features, like the quick reblog and queue features that give you those auto tags and stuff. (also if you aren’t already using Ublock Origin extension as your adblocker on desktop, get that too).

18) if you have an iphone, apple store limits what they can show you within the app, so if you want to look at more NSFW, the mobile browser version of tumblr is quite decent. but also go to your blog settings on desktop and make sure your settings of what it is showing you on your dash include sensitive content (even if you set it to have a filter over it at first), bc it sometimes autoflags random shit as “sensitive”. also play with your dashboard filters with tags for nsfw content to your comfort - it wont remove it it’ll just put a thing over it so it doesn’t pop up in public accidentally before you click to look at it.